


Backstreet

by resolnare



Series: Sedition & Intrigue [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, Fictober 2019, Violence, Whump, but i guess this is alright, i can't express feelings let alone write them out, minor language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22445464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resolnare/pseuds/resolnare
Summary: What do you get when you mix a disaster spy with another, almost as equally disastrous of a spy, just from a different faction? And then make them pine? A disaster, naturally.
Relationships: Female Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine/Theron Shan
Series: Sedition & Intrigue [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640737
Kudos: 9





	Backstreet

Blaster fire in the Star Cluster Casino was unsurprisingly common. Given the criminal element that has taken root on the Smuggler's Moon, mixed with the Hutt Cartel’s half-assed attempts to make themselves appear legitimate, no one ever paid attention to the random disputes. Unless they were looking for some cheap entertainment, of course. Theron Shan was not, in fact, looking for entertainment at any cost, but the commotion coming from the next room was perplexing, to say the least. A whole horde of people came sprinting out of the lounge, babbling frightened gibberish and looking over their shoulders uneasily as the unmistakable boom of an anti-material sniper rifle deafened their ears. Other patrons looked on warily, slowly inching away from the lounge’s doorway. Not Theron. As much as he would like to leave this behind and carry on with his day, there was no way he was going to.

While more sensible beings made themselves scarce, Theron pressed his back against the wall and craned his neck so he could get a look inside. In his peripheral vision, he could make out two dark, vaguely-human, shapes lurking around, their backs turned to him. They were all carrying long blades of violet–-kriff, are those lightsabers? Are those Sith?

 _Nope._ Theron, not looking to face down two insane zealots of the Dark Side on his day off, turned on his heel to walk away just as he saw a third figure lying horizontally at their feet. They had a smoking hole in the front of their helmet. Okay, so maybe they weren’t just crazy people taking a load off by terrorizing Nar Shaddaa’s populace. They were looking for someone, and that someone head-shotted a Force-user. This definitely wasn’t your run-of-the-mill gunfight.

As he decided that the Siths’ mysterious quarry obviously had things under control, Theron once again turned to leave. In the half-second he had his eyes off of them, there was another sniper shot, which was followed by the loud clatter of wood and metal falling off of something. Mentally groaning, Theron reluctantly turned back to his spot on the wall. 

_You don’t have to be here, you know,_ He chided himself, _You can leave anytime you want. But you don’t want, do you? Of course not, you idiot–-._

His mental lecture was cut short when he heard the ominous sound of a hissing lightsaber–-namely, the sound it makes when it stabs something-–followed by a gut-wrenching scream heavily distorted by helmet modulation. Theron visibly winced. Hopefully, one of the Sith miscalculated and shivved one of their fellows, but that seemed unlikely. So much for having things under control. _Guess I should try and identify-–_.

But before Theron could do anything, another person came hauling out of the lounge and nearly bowled him over.

“Move!” They hissed without looking at him, voice matching the distortion he had heard in the scream. Their arms were wrapped around their torso, and they were hunched over in a way that had to be uncomfortable-–especially with a sniper rifle like they had strapped to their back. Almost as tall as they were and still smoking from the fight.

“Uh, sorry.” Theron moved out of the way, but they were already leaving him in the dust. Moving did help him stay out of the path of the two angry Sith that were still hellbent on seeing this person dead, however. Theron shook his head, knowing that it wasn’t in him to let a probably-hurt person deal with this alone. Some day off.

Keeping his distance from the Sith, Theron ran in the direction the mysterious stranger went, his eyes scanning the casino crowd as patrons practically flew out of the Siths’ way. Then, he saw them. They were headed for a speeder pad not far away, and the Sith hadn’t noticed yet. Putting on a nonchalant facade, Theron sauntered up behind their target(who was now desperately trying to rewire a lone speeder car) and knelt down beside them, holding up a reassuring hand when they nearly jumped out of their skin.

“Let me help you.” Theron coaxed, gazing up into where–-he assumed–-their eyes were behind the black, faceless, mask they wore. They halted in their movements, his offer giving them pause. For a second, he thought they might actually say “no.” But they just nodded slightly–-and seemed to actually relax a bit, but that was probably a trick of the light–-and leaned back as Theron finished rewiring the speeder.

“Come on, hurry!” Theron slid into the driver’s seat and waited for the stranger to clamber into the passenger side. Then Theron gunned it, their vehicle emitting a shriek as it flew into traffic, dodging other harried drivers before coming to an easy coast when they got away from the busy lanes. Theron let himself exhale when he realized no Sith were following them. “A clean getaway…”

His passenger gasped sharply in response, and when he looked over, he noticed they had halfway curled into a ball, panting in apparent agony. “Alright, next stop: hospital…”

They sat up at Theron’s statement, though their fist clenched the side of the car. “No.”

“What?”

“Not a hospital. I have a place… I have a place with supplies.”

“A hospital is also a place with supplies.”

“Please, Theron. It’s the only thing that will work.”

The silence that followed was only outweighed by Theron’s surprise. “It… seems you have me at a disadvantage?”

“We know each other, Theron, I assure you. And I will explain everything but–gah!” They doubled over again, and Theron thought he saw blood covering the sleeve of their arm. When they recomposed themselves, they stared right at him. And even through their featureless mask, he could tell that they were desperate.

“I’ll take you there first. Then you can explain.” Theron didn’t miss how they slumped against their seat at his agreement, probably in exhaustion as much as relief. They gave him directions, which brought them to a run-down part of the Corellian sector. The passenger struggled to exit the car, then beelined towards a seemingly abandoned apartment. Theron lagged behind them for a brief second, taking it all in. The stranger tapped a code into some old panel, and a door slid open in front of them. They led the way inside, up some stairs(with some effort on their part), and around the corner through a different door.

The interior was about what you would expect from a run-down, abandoned, apartment. The walls were held up mostly by boards and nails, with dust covering the counter-tops and random items of no correlation strewn everywhere. Not the ideal place for a medical facility. 

“Are you sure about this…?” Theron inquired doubtfully.

The stranger ignored him, save for a brief glance in his direction, and opened up another panel in the wall. This time, they reached for their masked helmet and released it, pulling it off of their head even as it began to retract. Long black hair fell from being piled up on their head, soaked with sweat, and a single silver eye gazed back at Theron. Cybernetics of all makes framed her eye sockets, and a patch was built into where she lost her right eye to a direcat attack. He knew that because she told him, months ago on Yavin IV.

“Valkryie.” Her name slipped from his lips before he could stop it, and the Imperial spy shot him smile that morphed into a grimace before she dropped to her knees in front of the panel, her left eye gazing into what Theron now knew was a scanner. After a few seconds, a robotic voice chimed pleasantly back at her. 

“Access granted. Welcome back, Commander.”

Part of the wall, which was apparently a door, opened with a hiss. White light flooded into the room, and Valkryie led the way inside. It was a lab, full of medical supplies and research equipment. Theron was impressed that it was so well hidden, since it was such a stark contrast to the main building. The door shut behind him, and it was impossible to tell that Nar Shaddaa was just outside.

Valkryie didn’t make it ten steps before she lost her balance, wobbling unsteadily before falling to her hands and knees. She groaned, and Theron was immediately at her side. He wrapped his arms around her and carefully lifted her bridal-style from the floor. He carried her over to and gently laid her onto an operating table, peeled her ruined jacket and top off of her with her help, and took a half-step back. He felt his blood drain from his face when he finally saw the extent of her wounds.

It was obviously a lightsaber strike. It had carved a hole just above Valkryie’s left hip and all the way through to the other side. Then, it arced upwards and across her torso and chest, only stopping when it reached her right shoulder. It was like the Sith had tried to cut her in half, but got derailed. She grimaced when she saw the damage(Theron marveled at how she was still conscious) and pressed onto an area onto her wrist. The pulse point lit up, and a holographic screen projected in front of her. If this were less dire of a situation, Theron would ask(and probably receive a vague answer) exactly how many implants she had.

“Come in, Lokin,” Valkryie struggled to form her words, “Doctor, can you hear me?”

At first, it was just static. But then, a line appeared across the screen that moved as a voice on the other end replied. “Ah, agent. How can I–”

“Code Mortal, Doctor. I need you at Backstreet ASAP.”

“Understood. Hang on, agent.” Lokin disconnected, and Valkryie laid her head down on the table, her eyelid fluttering open and shut.

“Hey, you know,” Theron had been digging around in shelves, cabinets, counters, anything that might hold something useful, and emerged with an armful of painkillers, kolto stims, and bandages. A jolt of worry had struck him when he saw her fighting back unconsciousness. A lot of medics talk to grievously injured patients when they’re on the verge of death. It might be a good idea to take a leaf from their book right about now. “Usually when a person is nearly cleaved in half, they’re a bit more panicky.”

Valkryie looked up at him, taking a deep breath before a small smile graced her lips. “And how many people do you know that have nearly been cleaved in half?”

“None that didn’t immediately meet their maker,” Her smile fell, and Theron felt terrible for it, but couldn’t help his curiosity. As he unraveled bandages and applied kolto, all while Valkryie watched apprehensively, Theron brought up the subject that bothered him the most. “Valk, I’ve seen healthier men bite the dust from lesser injuries. You shouldn’t even be breathing right now, nevermind joking around with me in a secret laboratory.”

“I’m choosing to take–ah!–to take that as a compliment.”

“Take it however you want. But… how?”

She averted her gaze, only wincing a little as Theron began the process of wrapping her waist in bandages soaked with kolto. “If I tell you it’s cybernetics, will you leave it alone?”

“But it’s not, is it?” Theron sighed, gently smoothing a bandage over irritated skin, pulling back a bit when she sucked in air through her teeth, eye screwed shut. 

“No… no, but please. Not right now. Let’s not talk about it right now.”

Theron nodded. He wanted to know, but she wasn’t ready to divulge, and frankly, it wasn’t any of his business. He busied himself with the bandages, listening to the rise and fall of Valkryie’s still-unsteady breathing. “So, uh, do Sith attack you often in the Empire? Or was this just a bad day at work?”

Valkryie laughed at that, though it warped into more of a yelp, “You remember me talking about my old boss, Darth Jadus, right? He was largely displeased with a, ah, career decision that I chose to pursue. He sent his severance package rather late…”

“Oh, yeah. Mr. _‘I believe in the democratization of fear,’_ right? This seems right up his alley,” Theron frowned as some blood seeped through spots on the bandages, “Though maybe he should give his assassins some lessons. I mean, the cauterization here is lousy.”

Valkryie rolled her eye, but he caught the small smile. “I’ll be sure to give them tips next time I bump into them.”

Theron finally tied off the rest of the bandages, looking down at her with a cheeky, but worried grin. “I think I’ve done just about all I can…”

“I don’t think there’s anything else to do. Not unless you can perform a skin graft on the spot.” 

“Ha. No, I don’t think so. Your doctor will be here soon, though, right? You’re in good hands.”

“I know.” Valkryie murmured, casting her eye downward. Only then did Theron realize she was shivering, and that the laboratory was the average temperature of a hospital: freezing. The operating table was probably frigid against bare skin.

 _Idiot._ He cursed under his breath, knowing her tattered jacket would do no good. He removed his red leather jacket from his shoulders, suddenly feeling as if he belonged in some cheesy holovid, and draped it over her. Valkryie gave him a surprised look.

“I, uh, thought you might be cold, so–”

“I am. Thank you,” She hugged it closer to her, and exhaled shakily, shutting her eye. “Stars, I’m exhausted.”

“Then, you should rest. It’ll help.” 

“Can you stay?” Theron must have looked shocked because Valkryie stumbled over her words in an attempt to make up for it. “I mean, I understand if that’s impossible, you’re probably–.”

Theron simply took her hand in his, and she fell silent, her lips slightly parted as they gazed into each other’s eyes for a few intense seconds. Theron spoke first, wrapping his other hand firmly around hers. “Of course I’ll stay. Like I said, you’re in good hands.”

“I know.”


End file.
